


The Kiss of Death

by GuestPlease



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Anatole and Helene and Pierre are nature gods, Anatole is Persephone, Anatole is an idiot, Andrei is Thanatos, Balaga is a primordial chaos deity that scares the other Big Ones, Bolkonsky is Hades, Bolkonsky is kind of homophobic, Dolokhov is a wind god, F/F, Helene is a pottymouth, M/M, Mary is Morpheus, Marya and Natasha and Sonya are sea goddesses, Probably gonna add more tbh, THAT IS NOT AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS I SWEAR ANATOLE AND BOLKONSKY PROBABLY WON'T MEET, Vassily is not a good father, but yeah there's little cliques, god AU, kind of?, well Hades and Persephone AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuestPlease/pseuds/GuestPlease
Summary: Both Andrei, god of Death, and his sister, goddess of sleep, need to find spouses soon to help their father transition the title peacefully (and retire). One problem; they're a bit more interested in each other's intended(s) than their own.Marya Dmitryevna doesn't know how that stupid Kuragin did it this time, but she is GOING to get Natasha back. She only hopes she won't be too late...Pierre just wants somewhere nice to be without Vassily Kuragin bothering him. (The nature gods don't really care about losing a god of trees, after all).





	1. Prologue: Andrei's Finally Here

Anatole was scheming again.

Dolokhov hated when Anatole schemed. It never ended well for either of them. He tuned back in to what Anatole was saying; “…and then I get a _hang-glider_ and scoop her off the ground!”   
Dolokhov flicked an orange pith at Anatole’s face. “How do you think Marya would react?”   
Anatole pinched his face. “Unimportant.”   
Dolokhov flicked another orange pith. “How do you think _Natasha_ would react?”

Anatole whacked this one away, and it immediately sprouted a sapling where it landed from the throwback of his power. “Slightly more important.”   
Dolokhov raised an eyebrow. “Mm. And where are you going to get the wind for this?”   
Anatole smirked and leaned against him. “ _Well_ Feddy… I was thinking you could help me?”

Dolokhov sighed and inwardly counted to ten. He was a wind god, but less flighty than others. He liked to think he was _smarter_ than the others. Anatole, however, was as dumb as a wind god, despite being a god of harvest.   
“Anatole.” He said firmly, placing his hands on Anatole’s shoulders. “I like you. I want to have sex with you, and make you happy. I do _not_ want to help you have sex with someone else, particularly if she’s not interested.”   
Anatole opened and closed his mouth for a few minutes. Dolokhov decided this was the last straw, and stood. “You know where to find me if you want to talk.” He said tersely, before blasting into the air.

Anatole pouted, and stood as well. Unfortunately, this is when the chasm opened up and he fell backwards. He screamed for a good ten minutes, but as he continued to fall _(and Feddy failed to show up, RUDE!_ ) he eventually stopped. He finally hit the floor of the Underworld, with two figures standing by.   
“Do you have booze?” He asked, standing and rubbing his ass.   
The two figures—a bearded man and a mousy looking woman—looked at each other.

“Are you sure this is the right one?” The woman asked quietly.   
“You! Who are you?” The man demanded.   
Anatole gestured angrily. These people kidnapped _him_ , and they didn’t have any booze! “Wha—who are _you_?!”

“I am Andrei Bolkonsky, son of Nikolai Bolkonsky. I am the God of Death, and when my father passes on the title to me, I will become king of the Underworld.” The man growled, stepping closer.   
Anatole gulped. He didn’t know much about the Bolkonskys—no one really did. Well, maybe Pierre might, but Pierre was weird and bookish for a nature god. He did know one thing; Nikolai Bolkonsky was a primordial deity, more powerful than his own father Vassily, or Marya Akhrosimova. Everyone was scared of the Bolkonsky family. …alright maybe that was two things. Anatole wasn’t good at counting.

Anatole puffed himself up. “ _I_ am Anatole Kuragin, son of Vassily Kuragin. I am the god of fruit.”   
There was silence for a minute.   
“What?” Andrei Bolkonsky finally said.

“I’m the god of fruit! And vegetables. No one wanted a headache over tomatoes. My sister is the goddess of flowers, our father is the god of seasons, and my brother in law is the god of trees.” Anatole nodded firmly. “So put me back _right now_ or else!”

Andrei looked at the woman. “Do you want him?”   
The woman looked even more mousy. “I don’t want trouble…”   
Andrei nodded once. “Right, I’ll handle this then. Kuragin, if you tell me where I can get a husband for Mary and a wife for myself, you can return.”   
Anatole perked up. “Okay! What’s she goddess of?”

“Sleep.” Mary said quietly.   
Anatole shrugged. “Okay. So, there’s Marya Akhrosimova, she’s another primordial deity, but she’s goddess the sea. She’s scary. Taking her out would be good, because she has this _hot_ daughter figure named Natasha Rostova. She’s the goddess of waves. She has a cousin—Sonya, who’s goddess of sea creatures. There’s Balaga, no one really knows what he is…”

“My sister is not marrying _that_.” Andrei interrupted.   
Anatole shrugged. “Okay, okay. There are a bunch of wind gods, but the West Wind is _mine_ , okay? Fyodor Dolokhov is mine. …I don’t really know the rest. You could probably take my sister or my brother-in-law if you want. Dad won’t really mind either way, and the marriage is terrible. There are probably other people but I don’t care about them.”   
Andrei sighed exasperatedly. “Fine. Fine. Another nature spirit in your place. Mary, go look into the sea goddesses.”

“And you’ll let me go?” Anatole demanded, before he was blasted into the air by a blast of wind. Mary and Andrei both watched him shoot up out of the Underworld like a cork in a champagne bottle.   
“That was… odd.” Mary craned her neck to look out of the hole.   
Andrei sighed. “Please tell Lise that there’s a new hole. I don’t want another bard getting in.”   
“I like the bards.” Mary said.   
“They’re cute when they’re domesticated, I suppose. But wild bards get in and then there’s an infestation and next thing you know, they’re all scuttling out from the cracks asking for their grandmother or their cousin or their lover’s dog back and it’s just a _mess_.” Andrei pinched the bridge of his nose, circles growing even more apparent under his eyes.

Mary reached out to pat his back affectionately, then jumped back as they heard an outraged scream in the distance.   
Andrei pursed his lips. “Better go find a bride quickly, Mary.”   
“For you?” She asked quietly, yet somehow almost teasingly.   
Andrei smiled thinly. He looked so much like his father, but so different at the same time. “Who knows. Perhaps not.”


	2. Chapter One: The Abduction

Natasha was racing against Sonya again.

They were technically raised to be war goddesses if it ever came to that, but in this time of peace, they were free to frolic in the waves, or on the beach. Natasha blasted forward just before Sonya leapt off of the back of her dolphin.

“I win.” Natasha grinned triumphantly.   
Sonya laughed. “That was a good race though, Titus! But I guess we can’t beat the waves themselves!”   
Titus, her dolphin, clicked a happy reply before disappearing under the waves.

Natasha clasped Sonya’s hand in hers. “Well, it was a good race. Titus is improving, you two nearly beat me. Want to come look for shells with me?”   
Sonya shook her head. “I promised Eureka I’d scrub her shell. She’s turning 103 and barnacles are starting to grow on her. …oh, she’s a turtle.”   
“I knew that.” Natasha flushed. “I’m going to go look for shells.”

Sonya giggled and disappeared into the waves. Natasha slowly headed along the beach, gathering shells in her skirt.   
“Hello.” A voice said, causing her to drop her shells in surprise.   
“Oh, I’m so sorry, let me help you—” Natasha and the mysterious woman both knelt, then suddenly looked into each other’s eyes.

The woman flushed, turning her dark eyes away from Natasha. She handed her a large conch shell. “Here. Sorry about that.”   
“Oh, no, it’s really my fault.” Natasha flashed a smile. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The woman flushed, and stood, wiping sand off of her white dress. Natasha watched her with interest. This clearly wasn’t a human, but she didn’t seem like a naiad before. She seemed like…

“Hey, what are you goddess of?” Natasha asked excitedly. “I really only know some of the nature spirits, it’s nice to meet someone new!”   
“I’m Mary, goddess of sleep.” The woman muttered.    
Natasha offered her hand, and helped Mary up. “I’m Natasha, goddess of the waves.”

Mary looked around. “Good work you’re doing.”   
Natasha laughed, and even if it sounded like a bell, Mary could have sworn that the sound of the waves crashing against the shore grew louder.   
“Thank you, I should say the same.” Natasha winked.   
Mary flushed, then noticed that Natasha hadn’t let go of her yet.  “Natasha… do you… want to come with me?”

“Where are we going?” Natasha asked, her other hand twisting in her skirt, the shells threatening to spill over again.   
“Down below.” Mary replied meekly.   
“Down below?” Natasha repeated.   
“Six feet under the ground.” Mary sighed.

Natasha bit her lip and looked around. Both women heard someone call for her on the wind.   
Mary pulled her hand away, but Natasha grabbed it again.   
“Wh—why?” Mary asked.   
“You seem lonely. And I bet that you have a really pretty smile.” Natasha gave a wide grin to demonstrate.

Mary swallowed. They’d sent Anatole Kuragin back, surely if Natasha didn’t want to…? Somehow, even if Natasha was meant to marry Andrei, Mary wanted the goddess of the waves to stay.

“Okay.” Mary croaked out, before whisking them down to the underworld. Surprised, Natasha let go of her skirt, the seashells clinking against one another on the sand. Nearby, the waves stilled for a moment, before resuming the most cursory of actions. And high tide never came.

Meanwhile, Andrei had come to the surface in an orchard. He walked through the trees, enjoying the sunlight playing off of the leaves, until he saw a shorter, rounder man reading a book while sitting underneath a tree.   
“What are you reading?” Andrei asked, more gruffly than he intended.   
The man jumped. “Oh… sorry, I thought you were Vassily. It’s a book of legends on the wild god who lives in the woods—he’s actually not so bad, he likes it when I come by and make sure that the woods are doing alright, and it’s very… I’m babbling. Sorry. I’m Pierre, who are you?”

“I am Andrei Bolkonsky, god of Death. And I like your babbling.” Andrei sat down next to Pierre to punctuate this.   
Pierre eyed him for a minute. “Are you going to kill me?”   
“No.” Andrei replied.   
“And… you like listening to me?”

“I don’t see why not. Who _are_ you, anyway? You’re not a mortal.” Andrei gave Pierre a glance over. And then another one, for good measure (because Pierre was cute, okay?).   
“Oh! Right, sorry, I’m the god of trees.” Pierre knocked on the wood of the tree they were leaning against and it grew a little taller. “It’s kind of redundant, given that Anatole is the god of fruit, and I never get any good offerings, but it’s peaceful, and Helene doesn’t bother me, and… no one has ever let me talk this long.”

“Their loss. And personally, I find Kuragin redundant. He could at least be a god of seeds. …tell me about Helene.” Andrei settled back against the tree, watching Pierre with unfathomably dark eyes.   
“Ah. Well. She’s kind of my wife, but we… we aren’t together, if it makes sense? I wouldn’t even call us friends. I married her because I thought I loved her, and she married me because Vassily didn’t want me wandering off into the woods to join Balaga…”

Andrei stood, and offered Pierre his hand.   
Pierre blinked up at him.   
Andrei sighed. “They don’t deserve you, you deserve to be a king. I can get you a new wife, a better wife. Vassily Kuragin will not pursue you. You will have whatever you wish.”   
Pierre blinked even harder. “Will you be there?”

“Of course.” Andrei said. His heart already ached that he had to give up this short man to Mary. But Mary would appreciate such a husband, would she not? Besides, he was apparently okay with infidelity—no. Andrei couldn’t do that to Mary.   
He was startled out of his thoughts by Pierre gently taking his hand. “Okay.”   
“Okay?” Andrei squeaked, before giving a more confident, “Okay.”

No one called for Pierre.

He and Natasha were whisked down to the Underworld at roughly the same time. Both Mary and Andrei appeared on the edge of the Styx, out of the way of the spirits who shuffled through the gates and off of the boat.

“Tada…” Mary said weakly.   
“…Pierre?” Natasha asked.   
“Natasha?” Pierre responded. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I came down with Mary.” Natasha took said goddess’ hand in hers.   
Andrei stepped forward. “Mary, do you find your husband satisfactory?”   
“Uh… he looks very nice, brother.” Mary peered around him to look at Pierre.

“Husband?” Natasha demanded. “I… what am I here for then?”   
“You will be my wife.” Andrei said imperiously.   
Natasha looked him over and narrowed her eyes. “That wasn’t the deal.”   
“You clearly didn’t specify.” Andrei hissed.   
“I don’t want you, I want her.” Natasha held up Mary’s hand. The waters of the Styx began to grow choppier. Mademoiselle Bourienne, the ferrywoman, shot them all a dirty look.

Mary flushed. “O-oh…”   
“To be perfectly candid… you never mentioned… your sister, I guess—either?” Pierre said quietly. “I thought you liked me…”   
“I do like you.” Andrei said hurriedly, dropping his anger and taking Pierre’s hands in his. “It’s just… my father… he wants a wife for me and a husband for Mary.”

“What if we… pretended that I would marry him, and you’ll marry Natasha, and then we just… stop pretending? Sometimes?” Mary suggested quietly.   
Natasha gently stroked Mary’s hand gently and smiled at her. The Styx calmed to a glass-like quality.   
“I… suppose.” Andrei ground out. “Though I suggest we send the oceanic upstart back, she’s _clearly_ too much to work with. Don’t you want someone better, Mary?”

Pierre looked around fearfully, likely expecting Marya Dmitryevna to burst out of the Styx and rain down vengeance upon them all.   
Mary shook her head quickly. “Oh no, I like Natasha quite a lot.”   
“And I’m right here.” Natasha glared at Andrei.

Andrei glared back. “Well. Might as well start towards the castle then. Father will want to meet… my bride.”   
He pulled away from Pierre and offered Natasha his arm. She made a face like he had pulled down his trousers and defecated in front of her. Nonetheless, she pulled away from Mary and took it.   
Mary and Pierre looked at each other, and followed the other two into the underworld.


	3. Marya is NOT HAPPY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my absence. I don't have exams at university-- I had a bunch of written assignments all at once. Yeahhhh. 
> 
> Also I'm lazy.

Unfortunately, Pierre had been taken shortly before a meeting called by Vassily Kuragin. All of the nature gods under his purview were there—Ippolit, who made sure that there would be refreshments (despite being a god of bushes and shrubs), Helene, who wove a flower crown instead of contributing, and Anatole, who tried not to be called on.

Vassily very quickly noticed that one of his four underlings wasn’t there. “Helene, where is Pierre?”  
Helene shrugged and added belladonna to her crown. “Why should _I_ know?”  
Vassily sighed very loudly and passive aggressively. “Because you’re married to him.”

Helene shrugged again. “ _Yeah_ , but we are on a trial separation.”  
“The trial has expired.” Vassily snapped.  
“I’ve decided that I have needs that Pierre can’t fulfill.” Helene said. She added lily of the valley to her crown.  
“What needs?” Ippolit asked. “Maybe we can—”

“I want to fuck girls.” Helene said brusquely, finally looking at her older brother. “Like, a really strong lady. The kind of lady that could break me in half but also help me get my life in order.”  
“That’s… oddly specific.” Ippolit said. He poured himself a glass of juice that Anatole had been cajoled to provide. “Also please don’t say that word.”

Vassily rubbed his temples. “ _Elena_ , we’ll talk about that later. For now, you were meant to follow the buddy system that had been devised. Look, Anatole’s here! And why do you think that is?”  
“Because Dolokhov is gone and I’m bored?” Anatole proposed. Helene nodded sagely.  
Vassily ignored them. “It’s because _Ippolit_ , my only _decent_ child who mostly fails me anyway, tracked him down and made him come anyway. The buddy system.”  
Ippolit grimaced but said nothing.

“I thought Pierre was my buddy so _I’d_ come.” Helene pointed out. “Which is weird, because I never did when we were doing the frick-frack-snickle-snack.”  
Anatole snickered and high-fived his sister.  
“I’ve changed my mind.” Ippolit said. “Fuck is better.”

Vassily slammed his hand down on the table. All three of his children jumped, and Anatole and Ippolit twitched in a way that implied something Helene didn’t like to think about.  
“It doesn’t _matter_! We need to find him and see if he’s been stolen by that forest bitch!” Vassily growled. “He has to be somewhere—”

It’s worth mentioning at this point that Vassily’s court was held in a hall. Hedges made the walls, and trees formed the canopy, and pillars at different intervals. The flooring was particularly abundant grass, dotted with patches of flowers. There was a table made of stone that had been forced upwards by a small-ish tree and chairs made of bushes. There was also a glass window high, high above everything else. Though everything had more or less been taken and modified by the Kuragins, this had once been a church to different gods. Gods of stone and iron. And while most of the walls had been torn down, Vassily liked that window.

So it was a pity what happened next.  
“ANATOLE KURAGIN!” Someone shrieked as the window was shattered. Everyone dived to the ground to avoid flying glass, looking up only to see Marya Akhrosimova, primary goddess of the ocean, in a flying chariot driven by Sonya. Dolphins were attached to the front of the chariot. Every single one of that party looked murderous, Marya’s flame-like hair still fanning out behind her as though she was still underwater.

She leapt off of the chariot and landed squarely on the table, cracking it slightly with her intricately decorated and salt-covered halberd. Helene swooned. Anatole shrank into his seat.

“What do you want, Akhrosimova? We’re busy!” Vassily barked.  
“I want Natasha returned to me. I know the little shit has taken her.” Marya growled.  
Helene’s flower crowned turned into orange lilies and tulips. After a moment’s thought, orange and lavender roses were added periodically.

Everyone else turned to glare at Anatole, including Sonya who had parked her chariot nearby and had now clambered up onto the table.  
“Stop. Kidnapping. Natalya. Rostova.” Vassily ordered through clenched teeth.  
“I didn’t!” Anatole whined.

“Don’t lie to me!” Sonya demanded, pointing at him. Had Anatole been wearing a shirt, she likely would have grabbed him by the collar. “I saw a woman in white talking to Natasha on the shore before she disappeared! You’ve tried using disguises before! Like the old woman?”

“It would have worked had I realized mortals wear clothes!” Anatole protested. “And don’t have sparkle like stars!”  
Vassily sighed loudly, walked around the table, and smacked Anatole on the shoulder. Ippolit winced.  
“Just tell us where Natasha is, lest I flood this entire section of land, and Sonya fill you with excruciating poison.” Marya ordered, pointing her halberd at him.  
“I can’t die.” Anatole scoffed, though he eyed Sonya’s bag apprehensively.

“Emphasis on _excruciating_.” Sonya hissed.  
“I don’t know!” Anatole protested.  
Vassily glared at him, then reached out throughout his domain. “I don’t feel her. The boy’s not lying, Marya.”  
“She’s not with us.” Marya huffed. “And he knows something. I can see it on his weaselly little face. Besides, who else would want Natasha besides us and him?”

“Go on, Anatole. It will be alright.” Ippolit said encouragingly, coming and putting his hand on his baby brother’s other shoulder, squeezing gently as a show of support.  
“The goddess of sleep wears a white dress.” Anatole offered. “And her brother wants a bride… and she wants a husband, and I may have said Pierre and Helene weren’t…?”  
Vassily looked furious. “You… they took you, didn’t they? Why aren’t you down there with Mary Bolkonskaya?! What have you _done_ —I had that deal millennia in the making!”

Anatole shrank in his seat. Ippolit stepped behind his brother closer to his father. Roses began to grow between Ippolit and Anatole and their father—big, thick and thorny.  
“All _three_ of you dare—” Vassily began. Poison ivy began to grow from every available surface. Vassily had access to all of his subordinates’ powers as one of the Old Gods, but rarely used them like this. At least in front of outsiders.

Marya swung her halberd down an inch away from Vassily’s nose before it could go any further. “Don’t blame your son. What’s this about a deal, Kuragin? Have you and Bolkonsky been sneaking around behind my back?”  
For the first time, the Kuragin children saw fear in their father. Helene had never been so turned on by this relative stranger.

“N-no Marya, of course not…” Vassily gulped. “What could I possibly--?”  
“Sonya.” Marya said without moving her halberd. “I need you to go recover Natasha and dissolve the deal between Bolkonsky and Kuragin.”  
“Me?” Sonya asked. “What about my duties…?”

“They will be taken care of in your absence, do not fear.” Marya said without looking away from Kuragin. “Anything to add, Vassily?”  
“Anatole, go with the Rostova girl.” Vassily spat. “This is your mess, go clean it up. Marya will have my head if you fail.”  
Marya grinned wickedly. “Well now. Let’s not be hasty. I don’t think your children particularly enjoy your rule—I’ll take her as a hostage. The one who grew the roses.”

“Absolutely not!” Vassily hissed. “I’m already potentially losing one on this foolish venture—” He cut himself off as Marya poked her halberd closer. Slowly, he raised one arm.  
Marya smirked. “About to summon your crossbow, Vassily? You’ll never get a hit at this range. I’m taking the girl so that he has a real reason to come back with my Natasha. Anyway, he only has to pop through the portal that you doubtless still have.”

Vassily smirked. “Why, Marya, I’m surprised at you. Didn’t you hear me say it was _millennia_ in the making? And we both know this isn’t my original temple. No, the only one who should still have _portals_ is… well, him.”  
Marya paled.  
“Still want to send your last one in there?” Vassily taunted. “Or keep her close and admit the other one is a lost cause?”

“As I recall, your son is friends with _him_.” Marya said smoothly. “And he’ll keep my Sonyushka safe, or you don’t get Helene back.”  
“What’s happening?” Anatole asked. “I have a _lot_ of friends. Particularly ones I have sex with.”  
“Gross.” Sonya muttered.  
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” Anatole leered.

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Marya ordered. “We mean the Forest Dweller, stupid boy.”  
“You mean Bala—” Anatole began.  
Marya and Vassily both shushed him.  
“A very stupid boy.” Vassily grumbled. “Yes, we mean him.”

Marya finally moved away from Vassily. Helene followed, but didn’t take down the rose bush. Marya took the reins of the dolphins, and rose into the air. Helene hugged her from behind, looking satisfied.  
“Stop enjoying yourself!” Vassily ordered.  
Helene smirked at him, and the two disappeared through the hole the chariot made before.

Sonya regarded Anatole with distaste, and tugged him out of the room.  
Vassily looked upon his remaining child. “Ippolit?”  
“Yes, Father?” Ippolit asked softly.  
“Clean that up.” Vassily pointed to the glass.  
“Yes, Father.” Ippolit sighed. Vassily disappeared into the grass and leaves, leaving Ippolit all alone.

Meanwhile, in the Underworld, Andrei was giving a tour. “And over _there_ is where we torture the mortals who committed adultery.”  
“And what sickening yet oddly fitting torture do you have there?” Natasha asked.  
“Genital crushing.” Andrei replied.

“That’s not that creative.”  
“And hot pokers up their urethras.”  
“Gross.”

Andrei rolled his eyes. “So hard to please.”  
“Over there is the realm of those taken too soon.” Mary interjected. She pointed to a grassy knoll some ways away where all manner of children played. They could hear laughter and songs. It was also oddly close to the adulterers, but supposedly  
Natasha stopped suddenly, and Pierre bumped into her. Andrei’s arm was yanked back unintentionally when he tried to keep moving.

“What’s the big idea?” Andrei demanded.  
“What happens to gods who…?” Natasha asked, not taking her eyes off of the grassy knoll.  
“I-I don’t…” Mary said softly.

Pierre put a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “I think I heard about him? He was clouds, yes?”  
Natasha nodded. “But there are no clouds down here.”  
Mary looked beseechingly at Andrei, who cleared his throat. “No one knows what happens to gods when they die. They could just… dissolve into nothing.”

Everyone slowly turned to look at him.  
“Andrei, perhaps…” Pierre tried to think of a way to phrase what he wanted to say.  
“Don’t say that, brother!” Mary hissed, mortified. “You and Natasha are supposed to be on good terms!”  
“It’s fine.” Natasha said emotionlessly, though she threaded her free hand with Mary’s.  
Andrei noticed this, and took the hand Pierre had resting on Natasha’s shoulder.

“And if you look over there, is our father’s castle.” Mary said softly as they tried to walk forward in a group. It was ridiculous, but Natasha and Andrei seemed determined to hang on to their respective lovers. Mary wasn’t eager to cause a problem by not touching her fiancé. Hopefully this would all work out soon.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That bit with the God of Clouds? 
> 
> In War and Peace, Natasha had an older sister, Vera, an older brother, Nikolai (who's a wind god like Dolokhov) and a younger brother, Petr. Petr got blown up by artillery or some other equally gruesome wartime death. In this, he's the god of clouds-- wind and water.


End file.
